Leo et Serpentia
by blood-of-ink
Summary: The beginning of 5th Year - a cute transfer from the Salem Institute wreaks havoc on Hogwarts, aiding the Weasley twins. What has gotten into Malfoy? Rated PG-13 for mild swearing. *Newly added interlude - finally, the Author speaks!*
1. The Bathroom Door

Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away, in the early year of a decade not too long before our own . . . the author of this fic was attacked by the plot bunnies. This is the horribly mangled result.  
  
Cheers!  
  
-Elemmírë  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Disclaimer: JK is the Queen of the Universe. I only live in it. (Darn.)  
  
CHAPTER ONE: The Bathroom Door  
  
"Where the hell is Fred?" George Weasley asked his best friend Lee Jordan angrily. The two boys were sitting in their compartment on the Hogwarts Express. "He left for the bathroom over an hour ago!"  
  
"I know, I know . . . hey, aren't twins supposed to be telepathetic or something? You should know better than I do."  
  
"The word is telepathic, not telepathetic, you git."  
  
"In your case, it's definitely telePATHETIC." Lee smiled at his own joke. George rolled his eyes.  
  
"That was not funny. For such a brilliant prankster, you're a complete moron."  
  
"Hey, who was the one who came up with the idea of putting Filibuster Fireworks in McGonagall's shoes first year? I'll have you know that it wasn't you."  
  
"Yeah, I think that was Fred." George grinned and saluted Lee. "All hail the mighty first-year genius. Too bad it couldn't last!" With that statement, Lee tackled George and started mock-punching him. "Ah! Ah! The pain!" George finally escaped and stood, only to have a door connect with the side of his head a few seconds later. "Oy! Idiot, couldn't that have waited?"  
  
Lee shrugged. "Wasn't me."  
  
George, gingerly examining the side of his head, turned to the identical red-haired person standing in the doorway. "Fred – whoa, what's that you've got there?" Carefully concealed in Fred's arms was a girl. George raised both his eyebrows. "I guess now we know why you've been taking so long, eh?" Lee let out a snigger.  
  
"Oh, shut up you two prats," Fred sighed, "and give me a hand with her. She's heavier than she looks."  
  
"Yeah, so what'd you do this time? What's wrong with her? Lee said, still fighting to hide a smile. "Don't tell me you . . ."  
  
"I wish," said Fred mischievously, "but no, it's nothing like that. Yours truly was idiot enough to barrel through the bathroom door, and she happened to be standing right outside. Poor kid. Won't wake up." He laid the girl gently on the couch. She was rather pretty, about fourteen, with long brown hair and milky skin sprinkled with cinnamon freckles. Her green Carolina Craze Quidditch Club jersey and khaki skirt were loose but attractive, revealing a small, slender frame.  
  
"Yeah. So in the meantime . . . what are we supposed to do about her?"  
  
Fred shrugged. "Wait until she wakes up, I guess. I doubt if that'll take very long. She's one of Hermione Granger's friends and they tried to bring her in their compartment, but people are always coming and going and it's rather noisy. We decided she shouldn't wake up until it was absolutely necessary so I volunteered our compartment – rather quiet when you two aren't beating each other up."  
  
"Fifth Year, huh?" Lee asked quickly.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Lee looked almost disappointed, but then brightened. "Wonder if she's got a boyfriend."  
  
"Probably not – from what Hermione said, she's a transfer student from the Salem Institute in the United States. She's brand new."  
  
George grinned. "Cool."  
  
Fred considered for a moment. "Hey George, why don't you go get her an ice pack or something? She's bound to have a headache when she wakes up. Bathroom doors aren't exactly made of goose down, you know."  
  
"All right. Be right back." He exited.  
  
"Think I got a chance?" Lee asked excitedly. "With her, I mean?"  
  
"Somebody mind telling me what happened?" The two boys jumped and turned around, Lee turning a pale pink color. The girl's eyes had opened, revealing them to be an odd golden color, and now she was staring in surprise and alarm.  
  
"Erm . . . you had a little run-in with a bathroom door," Fred explained quickly. The girl raised her eyebrows.  
  
"Ah. I see. So . . . anyway . . . oh, I don't know. What's your name?"  
  
"Fred Weasley."  
  
"Fred Weasley, hmm?" She studied him, eyes narrowed. "You must be Ron's brother. The twin, right? Seventh Year? Where's the other one, George or Frank or whatever his name is?"  
  
"He went to go get an ice pack for your head. We thought you might have a headache when you woke up."  
  
She leaned back against the seat, as though her head had suddenly started pounding. "I hadn't noticed until you mentioned it."  
  
"Sorry. Who're you?"  
  
Her reply was cut short by George's entrance with the ice pack. He saw the girl, raised his eyebrows, and scanned her appraisingly. "Got the ice," he said.  
  
"We noticed," the girl replied dryly. "Anyway, where were we?"  
  
"Your name," Lee said helpfully.  
  
"Right. I'm Riley O'Connor."  
  
"Riley."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Just that?"  
  
"Yeah, why?"  
  
"Well . . ." he blushed, "it's kind of a rather masculine name."  
  
She shrugged. "So?"  
  
"Well . . . I dunno, actually."  
  
"Don't worry," a drawling voice said from the doorway. "I'm sure we'll think of something that will suit you."  
  
"Malfoy!" Fred hissed, stepping so that Riley was blocked from view.  
  
"Malfoy? Is that your real name?" Riley said in disbelief. "Move over, Fred, I can't see." He refused to move more than three inches to the left.  
  
Malfoy was tall – a little over six feet, Riley decided. His gray shirt wasn't that tight, but she could definitely detect some serious muscle action. His white-blonde hair fell alluringly over one eye. Very attractive, she thought matter-of-factly, but even Riley couldn't help noticing his cruelly amused facial expression.  
  
Malfoy raised one eyebrow. "So you're the one who got slammed with the bathroom door. Just like a bloody Yank . . . don't look where they're going."  
  
Riley stood up quickly. "Pardon? I'm pretty sure I just heard you insult me, but I wanted to make sure, in case I ended up body-checking an innocent person."  
  
Malfoy's grey eyes had gloated down her face to the green Carolina Quidditch jersey. "So," he said snidely, "I suppose you fancy yourself some kind of Quidditch player, himm?"  
  
"Maybe . . . why do you care?"  
  
He stared down his nose at her – it wasn't very hard; he was that much taller than she. "Let's just see if you end up playing for your house team."  
  
"See you on the Quidditch pitch then?"  
  
"I'll be there." He retreated and carefully closed the door behind him, but not without a parting sneer.  
  
Fred exhaled loudly. "Oy, Riley, I thought you were going to bite his head off or something."  
  
"That's not to say he wouldn't deserve it," Lee muttered darkly.  
  
Riley frowned. Who was that "Malfoy" person and what was his problem? Two seconds in the same room and he'd automatically seemed to despise her. Sure, he was good-looking and she'd always liked the bad boy type; she just couldn't understand what gave him the right to pass judgement so quickly. There was just no accounting for some people's rudeness.  
  
She sighed and turned to the boys, all looking at her expectantly. "So . . . what do I need to know about Hogwarts?" 


	2. Of Sortings and Slytherins

Disclaimer: The plot (and Malfoy's big toe) all belong to me. The rest is JK's!  
  
CHAPTER TWO: Of Sortings and Slytherins  
  
Eventually Hermione appeared to reclaim Riley – but not until after the Weasley twins and Lee had told her how to get into the kitchens, explained (in detail) the way into Hogsmeade by way of the one-eyed humpbacked witch, and described the many uses of the Ton-Tongue Toffee.  
  
Riley, Hermione, Harry and Ron had a good deal of fun on the trip to Hogwarts. They debated loudly the use of Quidditch tactics and various Muggle movies. Occasionally they were joined by Ginny, Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan, and the Weasley twins. Once or twice Justin Finch- Fletchley – a Hufflepuff Sixth Year – entered looking for one person or another, all the while gazing at Hermione admiringly.  
  
The Hogwarts welcoming feast was incredible, as usual. Unfortunately, Riley was unable to attend. She had other things to do.  
  
* * *  
  
Riley sat nervously in Professor Dumbledore's office. The plan Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall had worked out was supposedly to prevent her from the embarrassment of being the only Fifth Year Sorted. She was to wait in Dumbledore's office until one of the teachers appeared with the Sorting Hat.  
  
An unexpected noise made Riley turn around quickly. There stood Professor McGonagall, looking unusually disheveled and flustered.  
  
"Good day, Miss O'Connor – apologize for the delay – Dumbledore's got his hands full – gone and blown up a toilet, they have –"  
  
"Who – oh, don't tell me. It was Fred and George, wasn't it?"  
  
"It was indeed those Weasleys. Not a bad lot, mind – they just tend to pull some pranks. Think they're funny, they do." McGonagall was clearly less than amused. At least she seemed to be calming down.  
  
The door to the Headmaster's office opened once more, and there stood Albus Dumbledore himself. The tall, elderly wizard with twinkling eyes held a ratty-looking mess of patchwork that Riley assumed was the Sorting Hat.  
  
Dumbledore set the hat upon his desk. "Welcome, Miss O'Connor, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I trust that you have been comfortable thus far?" Riley nodded. Dumbledore smiled in response. "I am pleased to hear it. And now: the Sorting." Dumbledore took the hat and placed it on her head.  
  
"Tee hee hee . . . what have we here?" said a little voice inside her mind. "Very brilliant, oh, yes indeed. Perseverance, ambition, oh my goodness! You've got what it takes, my girl! Now, where shall I put you?" Riley closed her eyes and waited.  
  
"Well, would you look at that?" The hat seemed almost astonished. "So much courage for such a small girl. My dear, I do believe you've got the makings of a GRYFFINDOR!" The Headmaster's office shook with the hat's thunderous roar.  
  
"Well done, Miss O'Connor," said Dumbledore, smiling. Professor McGonagall looked pleased as well. "I will have Minerva take you up to your dormitories. She is your Head of House and will be here if you have any questions."  
  
"Come along, Miss O'Connor." McGonagall and Riley left Dumbledore's office.  
  
* * *  
  
McGonagall led Riley through the twisting, winding hallways of Hogwarts, finally stopping in front of a portrait depicting a woman in a voluminous pink dress.  
  
"Password?" said the Fat Lady.  
  
"Oh . . ." Professor McGonagall sighed. "Callidus Ficus." The Fat Lady's portrait swung forward. The two stepped into a room with cheery, crackling fires surrounded by couches. Red and gold curtains adorned the windows.  
  
"Welcome to the Gryffindor common room," said Professor McGonagall. "Your trunk has been taken to the Fifth Year girls' dormitory. You'll need to change out of your Muggle clothes and into your school uniform, as well." Suddenly McGonagall noticed Riley's green Carolina Craze Quidditch jersey. "Oh, do you play Quidditch?" she asked with a note of excitement in her voice.  
  
"Yeah. Two time all-American, since I was twelve."  
  
"What position?"  
  
"Keeper and sometimes Beater. Mostly Keeper, though."  
  
"Splendid!" McGonagall actually smiled. "Our Keeper graduated two years ago. Since we had the TriWizard Tournament at Hogwarts last year, there was no need for the Quidditch Cup to take place. We're having tryouts for a Keeper and a Chaser. The Gryffindor team would appreciate it if you would consider."  
  
"I'll be there," Riley promised. After McGonagall left, Riley climbed the winding staircase to the girls' dormitories. There were four beds for the Gryffindor Fifth Year girls. At the foot of one was her trunk. A package lay innocently on top her bed. Riley smiled and opened the parcel to reveal her Hogwarts uniform: a white long-sleeved polo, a mid- thigh length maroon plaid skirt, a gold-and-maroon striped tie, a winter scarf of the same color scheme, and black witch's robes. Riley dressed quickly and went down to the common to await the return of the other Gryffindors.  
  
The first to arrive were Fred and George Weasley. They blew in the door, looking like the devil (or at least McGonagall) was on their heels.  
  
Riley laughed. "Are you two all right? You look like you've just seen a ghost!"  
  
"Close," George said, wheezing.  
  
"Poltergeist, actually," panted Fred. "Peeves ratted on us. Told Filch we were going to blow up the toilets."  
  
"And did you?"  
  
"No!" said George, miffed. "And now we have to wait at least a month to try again, because Filch will be guarding the bathroom door!"  
  
Hermione, who had just entered, interrupted George's rant. "You shouldn't be blowing up toilets anyway," she said sternly. "Fred – George – really, no wonder your mum always looks so peeved."  
  
"Oh, that's nothing," Fred laughed. "Did you hear about the time –"  
  
"Fred, knock it off," Ron said as he, Harry, Neville, and Seamus climbed through the portrait hole. Dean Thomas was close behind them.  
  
"Hey, aren't you on the Gryffindor Quidditch team?" Riley asked Harry. He had just plopped down on Fred and George's couch. The twins were being soundly lectured by Hermione.  
  
"Yeah," Harry replied. "Fred and George are Beaters. I'm Seeker. Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell – she's Gryffindor Captain – are Chasers."  
  
"And you guys are having Keeper and Chaser tryouts?"  
  
"Yeah. How'd you hear?"  
  
"McGonagall told me."  
  
"Ah." He nodded. "So you play . . . ?"  
  
"Keeper."  
  
Ron sized her up. "You're kind of small," he remarked.  
  
"You're kind of redheaded," she replied in an imitation of Ron's tone of voice. "Being huge and menacing isn't the principle of the thing, anyway. I can still complete a Double Eight Loop in under ten seconds – that's probably a heck of a lot more than you can take credit for."  
  
Ron's ears turned a lovely shade of strawberry. "So," he said, turning to Harry quickly, "What's on the schedule for tomorrow?"  
  
"Ooh, look, ickle Ronniekins' ears are pink," George mock-whispered. Ron pretended not to hear him, but his ears had become completely indistinguishable from his flaming hair. Lavender giggled.  
  
"Well," Harry consulted the parchment, "We have Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Divination in the morning, and Care of Magical Creatures in the afternoon."  
  
"Mmm." Ron nodded. "How about Monday?"  
  
"Monday . . ." Harry ran his finger down the page, then grimaced.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Defense Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic, then double Potions . . . with the Slytherins."  
  
"Again?" said Hermione in disbelief. "It's not enough that we've had them the past four years, they have to be in our Potions class again?"  
  
"Not only that," Harry murmured, "They're our Care of Magical Creatures partners, too."  
  
"Will it never end?" a distressed Seamus asked the ceiling.  
  
"Excuse my ignorance, but what's so bad about the Slytherins?" Every Gryffindor head in the common room turned to stare directly at her.  
  
"What's so bad about the Slytherins?" repeated Fred in a shaky voice. "What do you mean, what's so bad about the Slytherins? Isn't it obvious?"  
  
Riley shrugged. "All you ever do is complain about them. What have they done that's so wrong?"  
  
Harry and Ron exchanged worried looks. "I think you'd better tell this one, George."  
  
George was completely nonplussed. "Um – yeah. Okay. So, it all started with this Dark Wizard bloke called You-Know-Who."  
  
"Voldemort," Harry said irritably.  
  
"Er, right," George continued uneasily. "Well, in his day and age, he turned all these people to the Dark Arts. There wasn't a single wizard that went bad that wasn't in Slytherin."  
  
"Yeah, and with Slytherins like that Draco Malfoy, no wonder they have such a bad reputation," piped Lavender.  
  
"Draco Malfoy?" Riley looked quizzically at the twins. "Is he –" George nodded sharply. "Ah."  
  
"And that is why under no circumstances does any sane Gryffindor fraternize with a Slytherin."  
  
"Because they're prats," finished Ron.  
  
"I'll try to remember that," Riley said jokingly.  
  
All of them stared at her, dead serious. "Just be careful," Fred said. "And if for any reason you get into a spot of trouble with anyone, never hesitate to ask for help. One Gryffindor always aids another."  
  
"Still," added George, "Steer clear of that Slytherin lot. They're bound to be trouble." 


	3. Quidditch Tryouts

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING! Don't make me feel more horrible than I already do!  
  
CHAPTER THREE: Quidditch Tryouts  
  
The early part of Riley's first morning at Hogwarts passed uneventfully. In Herbology, Professor Sprout had the Fifth Years de-slug crates of Mandrakes. The usually jolly professor seemed to be quite perturbed, as some of the Dugbogs for Hagrid's Sixth Years had attacked the Mandrakes before start of term.  
  
"If this is how Sprout releases frustration on innocent bystanders, I can't imagine what she's doing to Hagrid," said Riley, scraping dirt and slime from under her fingernails.  
  
"I'm sure Hagrid deserves whatever she's giving him," Hermione said primly. Ron gave her a horrified look. "Oh, come off it Ron! I was just kidding!"  
  
"Good," said Ron. "Otherwise you would have Harry and me to deal with."  
  
"Ooh, now there's something she'll be scared of," Seamus said.  
  
"Shut up, Seamus, you prat," said Harry, elbowing him in the ribs. Seamus dodged him, laughing.  
  
The Gryffindors continued, bantering, to their next class: Divination. Hermione parted with them on their way to Professor Trelawney's classroom. At the start of class, Trelawney made her usual tinkly entrance, clad in something that was floaty and purple; Harry and Riley had a heated discussion on whether it was a dress, robes, or an old curtain gone terribly wrong.  
  
"Class, before we begin, let me give you a brief introduction into the world of entrail-readings," Trelawney whispered mystically.  
  
Ron made a mock-barfing noise. "Ah, animal guts . . . what's next, brain dissection?"  
  
"Ron, that's disgusting," said Riley as Professor Trelawney looked in their direction.  
  
"Shhh!" Harry hissed.  
  
Trelawney's huge glasses rested on Ron's back for a moment, and sufficiently assured that the three had not been talking in class, she continued. "This particular section of Divination, more than any other, is opportunity for all students to return to their more . . . primal . . . instincts. As such, I will expect an eight-inch essay on the history of animal entrails. You may begin work in class. Next class we will actually be working with the animals and learning the necessary rituals of cleanliness, etc."  
  
Trelawney gave them the rest of the period to work on their essays. Riley finished before the period ended, thoroughly disgusted. She wasn't the only one. Lavender kept almost-gagging. Parvati looked tragically ill.  
  
"Bet they're not so keen on Trelawney after next class," Ron muttered angrily. He had only completed about six and a quarter inches, and was currently writing REALLY BIG to fill more space. "D'you think she'll notice if I only have seven and five-eighths?"  
  
"This is Trelawney we're talking about, Ron. Of course she'll notice," replied Harry, squinting through the smoke and gloom of the classroom.  
  
Lunch was almost as lethargic as the morning had been. The only disruption was caused by Fred and George, who had gotten a pack of Yodelers from somewhere. Not realizing what the toffees were, the twins had eaten them, and were both now singing enthusiastically.  
  
Over a rather loud rendition of "Little Shop of Horrors", Harry commented, "It's really something to see Fred and George embarrassed for a change."  
  
"Embarrassed? Them?" Riley laughed, almost choking on her shepherd's pie. "Just look, they're hamming it up out there. I don't think the twins care in the least bit." In saying this, she didn't notice how Ron, Harry, Hermione, Seamus, and Dean had gone mysteriously quiet and were all staring discreetly at something behind her head. She spun around, and shrieked a little when two strong hands grabbed her middle and lifted her onto her feet.  
  
"Every single day," Fred sang to her, grinning, "I walk down the street/I hear people say 'Baby's so sweet.'/Ever since puberty,/Everybody stares at me/Boys, girls, I can't help it baby/So be kind/And don't lose your mind/Just remember/That I'm your baby."  
  
"What are you doing?" Riley hissed. "This is really, really, incredibly embarrassing."  
  
Fred cocked one eyebrow at her. "Why do you think I'm doing this?" He threw back his head and sang with gusto. "Take me for what I am/Who I was meant to be/And if you give a damn/Take me baby or leave me."  
  
Riley nodded. "Okay, I'll play your little game." With a wink at Harry and Ron, she struck a superstar pose and sang right back. "Take me baby or leave me/A tiger in a cage/Can never see the sun/This diva needs her stage/Baby let's have fun/You are the one I choose/Folks would kill to fill your shoes/You love the limelight too now baby/So be mine or don't waste my time/Crying 'Oh, honeybear, are you still my baby?'/Take me for what I am/Who I was meant to be/And if you give a damn/Take me baby or leave me."  
  
Then, in perfect harmony (to the astonishment of the entire Great Hall), Fred and Riley sang: "No way can I be what I'm not/But hey, don't you want your girl hot?/Don't fight, don't use your head/Cuz every night, who's in your bed?"  
  
Riley, completely breathless, ended the song with flair. "Who – who- ooh-ooh's in your be-ed?"  
  
Students and teachers alike sat stunned. Five or six seconds had passed when the silence was broken by a single clap. Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster himself, was applauding. The Great Hall broke into cheers.  
  
When everyone had settled down, Professor Dumbledore stood, looking at them all over his half-moon spectacles. "Thank you, Miss O'Connor and Mr. Weasley, for that rousing performance. As I hope everyone is aware, the two were aided by Yodelers – a new candy designed to make the eater sing effortlessly." The Hall shook with a great rumble of laughter. "Now that the effects have worn off, I trust the Messrs. Weasley will return to their seats. Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here."  
  
"Whatever possessed you to do that?" Hermione demanded as Riley sat down with cheeks a-flush.  
  
"I don't know, really. When Fred started singing, though, I felt like killing him. So I decided that the best way to escape embarrassment and ridicule was to sing right back to him." Riley shrugged.  
  
"It seems to have worked," Ron observed. Indeed, the Weasley twins and Lee were talking excitedly at their end of the table. Fred (who had noticed Riley watching) waved and mouthed "Hey, Riles!" Riley waved back and smiled.  
  
"I guess you're right. I'm kind of surprised he knows RENT, though. I thought that was a USA thing." Ron sniggered, and Riley gave him a look. "What?"  
  
"Oh, nothing." Ron said innocently, but he couldn't hide a smile.  
  
Riley rolled her eyes. "Whatever."  
  
* * *  
  
Half an hour into Care of Magical Creatures, a small First Year approached the paddock. Leaving the students with the baby Jarveys, Hagrid let him through the gate. "Riley?" Hagrid called.  
  
Riley jogged over to the paddock exit. "Apollo 'ere 'as orders to take you up to Professor McGonagall." Hagrid winked. "Good luck with the Keeper tryouts."  
  
Riley grinned. "Thanks, Hagrid – no homework, right?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Awesome." She held up both hands, fingers crossed.  
  
Professor McGonagall was waiting at the Quidditch pitch with a tall girl with short blonde hair. "Ah, Miss O'Connor. This is Katie Bell, Captain and Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team." The girls smiled and shook hands. "She and I are here to observe your abilities as Keeper."  
  
Mounting her broom, Riley took her customary position in front of the three hoops at the far end of the field. Katie flew over and sat easily in the air. "Okay, Riley. We're going to split this tryout into two parts. During the first, I'm going to ask you to perform a couple of moves – it tests your knowledge of the position. Then, later, I'll take the Quaffle and try to score. It's a one-on-one sort of thing."  
  
Riley felt confident during the first half of the tryout. It was almost ridiculously easy to comply with Katie's demands of loops, spins, and quick revolutions around the goalposts. When Katie reached for the Quaffle, Riley became a bit more apprehensive. It was evident that Katie was an excellent Quidditch player and one of the best Chasers in Hogwarts history. Still, Riley blocked everything that came her way. Katie furrowed her brows and started flying faster and turning sharper. Riley worked harder, but still managed to protect the hoops. She could tell that Katie and Professor McGonagall were impressed.  
  
Finally Katie blew her whistle to signify the end of the session. "Not bad, Riley," she said, panting. "We'll get back to you within the week, okay?"  
  
"Yeah . . . so is this one of those 'Don't call us, we'll call you' things?"  
  
"Sort of. You did good work today. Now, go on back up to Gryffindor tower. You'll probably want a shower before dinner."  
  
"Kay. Thanks, Katie, for letting me do this today."  
  
"No prob." Katie smiled and flipped a stray piece of hair out of her face.  
  
Watching the small girl head back up to the castle, Professor McGonagall finally allowed herself a relieved smile. "I do believe we've found a Keeper."  
  
"I would have to agree with that, Professor." Katie shook her head admiringly. "After she's worked with the team, she could be as good as Oliver Wood. We'd have a seamless defense again."  
  
"She's definitely one of the most talented Quidditch players we've ever had pass through our hands." McGonagall affirmed. "Let's just hope she doesn't have any unfortunate injuries. The other Houses might pick on her a bit because, well . . . she's a female Keeper. You don't get many of those."  
  
Katie nodded grimly and made a mental note to remind Fred and George to be extra careful of Riley during the early part of the season. Especially against Slytherin . . . what was Marcus Flint going to think? He'd say that Katie had gone batty. Once he saw how talented the little Fifth Year was, it would be dangerous for a time. Troubled, Katie put the Quaffle and other Quidditch equipment back into the equipment shed. 


	4. Midnight Encounter

Disclaimer: I own Riley O'Connor and a pack of Trident gum. The rest belongs to the fabulous JK Rowling!  
  
CHAPTER FOUR: Midnight Encounter  
  
The clock showed 12:46 p.m.; Malfoy was feeling restless. And, though the night's dinner had been excellent, he was hungry. So he did what any normal, red-blooded, fifteen-year-old wizard would have done in his place: he went down to the kitchens in search of a snack.  
  
He was nearing a sculpture of a witch with a kielbasa attached to her ear when he heard footsteps coming from both directions. With Slytherin's defeat in the House Championships two years ago still fresh in his memory, Malfoy took a none-too-agile leap behind a transparent tapestry of a drunken hippogriff. He held his breath, waiting silently. The first person to reach the tapestry was Riley O'Connor, the stuck-up Gryffindor. She gasped when she saw him.  
  
"Hush!" said Malfoy quickly, clapping one hand over her mouth. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Come on," he directed, shoving her behind a giant suit of armor. "I really don't need any more detentions and I'm sure you don't want any either." She rolled her eyes.  
  
They crouched behind the armor, he with one hand over her mouth, other hand clamped on her wrist. The footsteps grow gradually closer.  
  
Riley struggled to make herself comfortable. Malfoy, sensing what she was doing, twisted her wrist behind her back, causing a sharp yelp of pain. "Be quiet," he hissed.  
  
"Mmph trph," she shot back.  
  
Suddenly, Justin Finch-Fletchley turned the corner into their corridor from the adjoining hallway. The chubby Hufflepuff gingerly held a glass vial containing a purple liquid.  
  
Justin? thought Riley wildly. At this time of night? What was he doing out of bed?  
  
Justin stopped and checked the corridor for teachers and other students. Approaching a large painting of a bowl of fruit, he tickled the pear. It twisted and giggled and slowly became a doorknob. Justin looked over his shoulder once more and quickly entered the kitchens. The hallway was once again deserted.  
  
Malfoy got slowly to his feet, taking his hand from Riley's mouth. "I wonder what Justin was doing out here at this time of night," she said, rising.  
  
Malfoy shrugged. "Probably just got hungry," he said unconvincingly. "What are you doing out here, anyway?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
He cocked a skeptical eyebrow.  
  
"Well . . ." she sighed. "George pulled the Canary Cream stunt on me. I was looking for something to hex." She pulled a handful of Honeydukes chocolate bars from the pocket of her green plaid pajama pants. "This was all I could find, but he'll probably eat it if I leave it lying around. Even if George isn't the one who finds it, it'll still be amusing – for me." She grinned mischievously.  
  
"Geez O'Connor, you're not a bit as innocent as you seem, are you?"  
  
She sighed dramatically. "I know. More's the pity. Hey, want some chocolate?"  
  
Malfoy took one of the bars, but didn't eat it. "Didn't you say that you were going to hex these?"  
  
"Yeah, but I haven't done anything to them yet. Duh. I just came out of the kitchens. They're still innocent bars of chocolate."  
  
"Okay, whatever you say. I don't trust you, but I need a bit of fun now and then." Riley had her head tilted to one side and was discreetly studying his face. "What?"  
  
"Nothing." She shook her head. "You know, Malfoy, you're not bad when you're not in public."  
  
He smirked. "And you're not nearly as annoying or rude when you're not around Potty, the Weasels or the Mudblood."  
  
Her eyes flashed. "Don't diss my friends."  
  
"Your friends, O'Connor, are precisely the reason why someone like you –" he pushed the tip of one finger into her shoulder, " – can't have someone like me."  
  
"Don't cry, Malfoy," she said sarcastically. "I'm sure I'll get over it." She turned and strolled down the hall, presumably in the direction of the Gryffindor dormitories. Once Riley was sure Malfoy couldn't see her face, she allowed herself a very self-satisfied grin.  
  
Malfoy's eyes followed the way her slender form swayed down the hallway, then mentally slapped himself on both cheeks. Get a grip, he told himself. O'Connor is a Gryffindor. She hangs out with riffraff like Potty and the Weasel. Definitely not my type.  
  
He glanced at her retreating figure, a contemplative expression on his face.  
  
* * *  
  
Riley woke early the next morning. It took a second for her brain to register that she couldn't roll over and go back to sleep; Quidditch Captain Katie Bell had wanted a word with her before the Gryffindor team's practice that morning.  
  
Throwing on a pair of jeans and a polo shirt, Riley quickly pulled her hair up on top of her head. She grabbed her broom, the Rebel (winner of Broom Wars 2002) and ran straight down to the Quidditch field without bothering to stop for breakfast. Riley hesitated to wear her school uniform to Quidditch practice – as her mom had once said, "There are some stains even Magical Mess Remover can't touch, and I'll be darned if Riley O'Connor can't find all of them!"  
  
When she got to the field, she immediately noticed the lone figure in green Quidditch robes, flying high above the stands. Presently he came down. Much to Riley's surprise it turned out to be Malfoy.  
  
"Malfoy! Why aren't – I mean –"  
  
He chuckled amusedly. "Why aren't I in the infirmary? I decided to give that 'innocent chocolate' of yours to Goyle. He's had frogs coming out of his nose all morning. Madam Pomfrey can't figure out what to do with him."  
  
" Oh, forget it. It doesn't matter what they bloody do to him. He won't stop sneezing frogs until about four tomorrow morning."  
  
Riley saw Katie Bell approaching from the other side of the field. Distracted, she attempted to brush past Malfoy, but her elbow was seized in an iron grip.  
  
"Let go of me, Malfoy, I have to go talk to Katie!"  
  
His voice was soft. "I don't like people who try to hex me." Dangerous. "I'm letting you off easy, O'Connor, but watch your step." He released her. By the time Katie had reached the edge of the bleachers, he was gone.  
  
"What was that all about?"  
  
"Oh . . ." Riley shrugged. "Malfoy being Malfoy, I guess."  
  
"Oh." Katie laughed and shook her head.  
  
"So what's up?"  
  
Katie grinned. "I meant to tell you before this, but I thought this would be a more appropriate time."  
  
"Appropriate time for what?" said Riley, puzzled.  
  
"For this," said Katie mischievously, pulling something from behind her back – scarlet Quidditch robes. "Welcome to the team!" 


	5. Justin's Little Problem

Disclaimer: The characters and places all belong to the magnificent JK Rowling. I'm just . . . playing with them a bit . . . mwaha . . .  
  
CHAPTER FIVE: Justin's Little Problem  
  
The next morning Riley slept in much later than usual; fortunately, Hermione had done the same, so the two girls accompanied each other to breakfast. Riley was very surprised when Justin Finch-Fletchley approached the Gryffindor table.  
  
"Hello, Riley," he said, smiling warmly. Then, nervously, "Hi, Hermione." He waited.  
  
"Hi, Justin," she replied without taking her eyes off her food. He continued waiting patiently, as though expecting something. Eventually Riley gave him a funny look.  
  
"Um, Justin, was there something that you needed?"  
  
Justin shrugged. "No, not really. I was just . . ."  
  
"You might want to go back to the Hufflepuffs then, because you've only got about twenty minutes left before breakfast is over."  
  
"Oh, yeah. Right. Well, see you later." He continued to his House table, but not without shooting one last expectant glance at Hermione.  
  
"Wonder what that was all about," said Hermione thoughtfully.  
  
"God only knows – wait, look over there!"  
  
Hermione followed Riley's gaze. Across the room at the Hufflepuff table, Hannah Abbot had thrown her arms around Justin and was now kissing him dramatically. Or, trying to – Justin kept attempting to shove her off. Finally Justin broke and ran, much to the amusement of the other students in the Hall.  
  
"Run, Justin, run!" called Lee Jordan playfully.  
  
"Look at poor Justin . . . think he's in a spot of trouble?" Fred Weasley asked innocently as he slid into the seat next to Riley.  
  
"Maybe, but I know it's a spot of trouble that you just love getting yourself into – isn't that right, Weasley?"  
  
Hermione groaned at Riley's mocking comment. Fred was well-known for his midnight endeavors, which usually included him sneaking off with one girl or another. He was obviously the more "hormonally stimulated" twin, and it bothered her sometimes. Unfortunately, Fred never took these snogging sessions too seriously. Many a girl had her heart broken by the illustrious Weasley.  
  
Fred chose to ignore that particularly well-chosen comment. "Speaking of trouble," he continued, "I'm having a spot of it myself with my Divination homework. Being as you're an enthusiastic horror-moviephile and all that, I was wondering if you could help me, Riles?"  
  
"Sure. When and where?"  
  
He considered. "Well, I'm busy until about nine-thirty or so. How does the Quidditch Field sound? I'll be in Herbology detention until then – the Quidditch Field is a lot closer to the greenhouses than anything else."  
  
"Detention again?" Riley laughed, eyes dancing. "Why am I just not surprised?"  
  
* * *  
  
Riley walked quickly through the silent Quidditch grounds. The field was blissfully quiet; she'd had to listen to Professor Snape scream at her and Neville for half an hour. Riley had made Goyle's potion explode by 'accidentally' chucking a Filibuster Firework into his cauldron, and Neville had screwed his assignment up as usual. She'd been assigned a 27- inch report on the practical application of Sobriety potions as a result.  
  
"Riles?" She could see Fred waving at her from the Quidditch box. Jogging up the stairs, she soon reached his chosen study spot.  
  
"Hey, Fred," Riley started, but upon entering the box she got a funny feeling.  
  
Fred noticed her puzzled expression. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Oh, nothing. It's just – " Suddenly Riley realized what was making her so apprehensive. "Fred?"  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"Where are your books?"  
  
"My books?" he asked innocently.  
  
"Yeah. Books, notes – those things you need to study with? We're up here to study, remember?"  
  
"Well," he grinned, "about halfway through the day I came up with a much better idea." Tilting his head downwards, his mouth brushed hers gently; then, harder. It was obvious that Fred was in the mood for some full-out snog time, but Riley wasn't thinking along the same lines. She pushed him away.  
  
"Look, Fred," she sighed, "It's not as if I don't like you or anything. I really do. If you had chosen any other night, I would have been more than happy to help you 'study'. But . . . I'm just getting accustomed to the school, and I really have a lot of pressure on me right now." She winced. "Sorry. Maybe some other time?" She cocked one eyebrow at him daringly.  
  
Despite himself, Fred laughed. "Okay, but only if you promise."  
  
"I promise."  
  
"No, no." Fred shook his head in mock disapproval. "If you're going to do it at all, at least do it the right way. Now stick your right index finger beside your nose." He demonstrated and she complied, feeling rather foolish. "Great! Now, repeat after me. I . . . state your name . . ."  
  
She couldn't resist. "I . . . state your name . . ."  
  
"Do hereby swear . . ." he paused.  
  
"Do hereby swear . . ."  
  
"That I owe Fred Weasley . . ."  
  
"That I owe Fred Weasley . . ."  
  
"One good snog, length of time to be determined by Mr. Fred Weasley. Failure to comply will result in a double payment."  
  
"One good snog, blah blah blah, et cetera."  
  
Obviously pleased, Fred said a brief goodnight and bounded out the door. Riley rolled her eyes in amusement. Then, contemplatively, she dropped to a seat. Why had she turned Fred down? Half the female population of Hogwarts would give their wands to be noticed by one of the Weasley twins. Yet . . . she sighed and shook her head.  
  
"You do realize that you could get a week's worth of detention if a teacher discovered you up here?" said a distinctly masculine voice from the top of the bleachers.  
  
Startled, Riley jumped to her feet. "How much of that did you just see?" she demanded angrily.  
  
The shadowy figure lounging at the back of the box shrugged. "Enough." He jumped to his feet and strode toward her. "Fred Weasley looking for some 'quality time' with cute little O'Connor, eh? Makes a person wonder just why you said no."  
  
"Exactly what are you suggesting?"  
  
The phantom raised both hands in a mock-attempt to pacify her. "Relax, you don't seem like that type to me. But, now that you mention it . . ." Riley's temper flared at the amusement in his voice.  
  
"Shut it – wait, who are you anyway?"  
  
The cloaked figure shook its head, clucking condescendingly. "O'Connor, O'Connor. And they think you're so smart."  
  
Riley closed her eyes; she knew that voice, that attitude. "Malfoy."  
  
With a dramatic, sweeping bow, Malfoy pushed back the head of his cloak. "Very good," he nodded approvingly. "What will you do for an encore – actually make a decent Quidditch play?"  
  
"Look, Malfoy, why don't you go find someone else to annoy? I'm really not in the mood." She sat down again, looking a little lost.  
  
He sat in the row of seats directly above her. "Let's just say your retorts provide me with more sadistic pleasure than most other people do. Now, why don't you tell Uncle Draco what's really wrong?"  
  
"Because the whole school would know about it by morning. Duh. Don't think that just because I'm new I don't know about this whole Gryffindor-Slytherin conflict.  
  
He raised his eyebrows. "And you don't think we're all insane? You don't think it's wrong and stupid? It hasn't struck you that this could be all Montagues and Capulets, fighting without cause? I'd expected that you, being an American and therefore prone to such activities, would have us all psychoanalyzed by now."  
  
She shrugged. "I decided that our Houses must have a plausible reason. Hogwarts students have a reputation for their intelligence, you know. I trust their judgement. Besides, I'm not really the Juliet type anyway. Dying because of a stupid, brainless mistake is not on my To-Do list."  
  
"As long as it wasn't your own stupid mistake."  
  
"Shut up." She glared. "Anyway, I hate the clothes they wore back then. Corsets, yuck! Who in their right mind could put up with those evil things? And God, those dresses . . . dunno how I'd play Quidditch in one of those things . . ."  
  
He scanned her body momentarily; if it had been anyone else Riley would have said she was being "checked out", but Malfoy's summary of her figure was that of a tailor observing his client. "You could get away with it," he admitted, after a moment. "Don't try it on a daily basis, though. You're more of a jeans and polo kind of girl."  
  
"Ah. Unlike the Slytherin beauty – Pansy Parkinson, wasn't it? Cosmo Girl of the New Millenium? Or you , for that matter," she added. "Aren't you such a Justin Timberlake?" She smiled wryly and added, in an undertone, "Just like Tim."  
  
"Tim?"  
  
"My ex-boyfriend. He was a Muggle, and a very well-dressed one at that. More obsessed with his appearance than anything else. Abercrombie, American Eagle, he had it all."  
  
"And you weren't into it like he was. You're no supermodel, it's no wonder he broke up with you." His tone changed. "You should be with a guy who wears old sports jerseys and believes that tickets to the Quidditch World Cup is an ideal date."  
  
"What makes you think that?" He was passing judgement again. Would he ever stop?  
  
He shrugged. "The way you dress. How you move, the things you say. You can learn a lot by observation."  
  
"Hmm. What else have you gathered by your 'observation'?"  
  
"Oh . . ." he grinned in a way that was both annoying and enticing at the same time. "Stuff. Just general information."  
  
"I see."  
  
"It's proved to be very beneficial at times."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Well, keeping quiet and having my eyes open earned me something very interesting. I now have a rather odd tale about a golden-eyed Gryffindor and her redheaded friend . . ." He snickered maliciously.  
  
Riley was stunned. She'd forgotten all about the night's earlier events. Naturally, it was too much to hope that he had dropped it as well.  
  
"Malfoy," she said worriedly, "You're not really – oh, don't – if you do, I'll . . . um . . . do something bad. Something so bad, even I don't know what it is yet!"  
  
"Yeah? Like what?" She struggled for a retort.  
  
"Look, Malfoy, just don't. Okay?"  
  
"I'll think about it." He laughed at her apprehensive, angry face. "Good job you'r a cute little girl, O'Connor. If you were, say, Eloise Midgen, I wouldn't be quite so lenient. Be grateful; don't forget I'm watching you."  
  
Her expressions contorted in fury. "You fight dirty, Malfoy."  
  
"I know. More's the pity, eh?" He chuckled as she stormed past – off the field, into the castle, and straight to Gryffindor Tower. 


	6. The Hair-dying Hex

Author's Note: I'd like to say THANK YOU SO MUCH to Aniron (Emma) for being my very first reviewer! Yay! Twilight Star is an incredibly awesome story, and yeah, you do need to write a Harry Potter fanfic. Adam (if you ever actually make it to Chapter Six): You HAVE to read Harry Potter for this to make sense. GO READ! Also thanks to Sarah, my wonderful beta, and Joyce, who puts up with my meaningless chatter as I type.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Disclaimer: Don't have one yet!  
  
CHAPTER SIX: The Hair-Dying Hex  
  
"What's wrong, Riley?" Hermione shouted over the din at the next morning's breakfast.  
  
"Nothing," Riley muttered. The day had dawned bleakly, the sky a washed-out grey. She had felt that this was fitting; the weather reflected her mood.  
  
"Come on, Riles," said Seamus. "We know you only say that when you're – oh. Oh, crap." Seamus' owl, Sir Robin, had been startled by a passing ghost and had dropped a letter from Seamus' Muggle cousin into a bowl of oatmeal. Frightened, the red owl attempted to bury itself in Seamus' schoolbag.  
  
"Aptly named owl, Seamus," said Lee Jordan thickly around a mouthful of toast.  
  
"Yeah," added George. "When danger reared its ugly head, he bravely turned his tail and fled – "  
  
"Yes, brave Sir Robin turned about, and gallantly he chickened out . . ." continued Fred, glancing at Riley hopefully. She wasn't smiling. Fred rolled his eyes, leaned over, and whispered, "There's only so many times you can chew the same bit of toast before it disintegrates completely."  
  
Riley forced a smile. "It's not easy, being upset. I was doing a good job of it until you showed up."  
  
"Well, that's what we're here for." Fred grinned. "Care to share what's really wrong?"  
  
"Malfoy."  
  
"Don't tell me you let that stupid git get to you."  
  
"It's not that." She lowered her voice. "He was in the box last night."  
  
Fred's comedic air vanished instantly. "The whole time?"  
  
"I think so."  
  
Fred glanced around. "Snape doesn't seem to be overly happy, so I'd guess that we're safe – for now. In the meantime, try and concentrate on something else, okay?" He grinned wryly. "I'm still a little disappointed that things didn't go my way."  
  
"Get over it." Riley smiled back. "I told you why . . . and besides, Fred, I'm not that easy."  
  
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered in a mockingly belligerent tone. "Your loss, not mine."  
  
The first classes of the morning were double Potions, much to Riley's dismay. Not only were the stories Ron, Harry, and Hermione had told her enough to make anyone afraid of Snape, they were having Potions with the Slytherins. This morning's class would be an all-too-perfect opportunity for Malfoy to reveal what he knew.  
  
At the start of class, the hook-nosed, greasy-haired man burst into his classroom, black robes in disarray. Any will she might have had to be nicer to Professor Snape because of his role in the war were immediately banished when he turned to the class and, scowling, immediately began to lecture Neville. Riley still hadn't forgiven Snape for keeping her and Neville after class the other day; any opportunity was a good opportunity, when it came to hating Snape.  
  
"Stupid boy," the sallow-faced professor muttered. "Here, clean it up. No, not with your sleeve! You won't get it off the table that way! Use some Magical Mess Remover on a rag. And one hundred points will be taken from Gryffindor if you can't get it up."  
  
Riley nudged Ron. "Think he's a bit vindictive today?"  
  
"Yeah. What a prat, wish he'd leave Neville alone."  
  
"Miss O'Connor! Mr. Weasley! Fifty points from Gryffindor for talking in class!"  
  
Ron's mouth dropped open. "Fifty points? Isn't that a bit much?"  
  
Snape's thin mouth curved in a cruel smile. "A bit much? I certainly don't think so. In fact, why don't we make it one hundred points for talking back? And a detention, Weasley. You need to learn to hold your tongue."  
  
Ron looked ready to explode. Luckily, Dean, showing great presence of mind, tugged on Ron's robes with enough force that he sat down once again.  
  
To Riley, Harry whispered, "In Professor Snape's classes, you need to watch your step. Not that I need to tell you that, though. I imagine you got the message already."  
  
"I guess Ron would want to watch it then, as spontaneous combustion isn't an option." She shoved Ron in the side. It was barely enough to distract him from glaring evilly in Snape's direction, which he'd been doing since Snape told him off. The usual Weasley freckles were now lost in his crimson face.  
  
* * *  
  
"Stupid git," Ron muttered. Hermione looked relieved. His earlier speeches had included a few words that made passing First Years blush. The Gryffindors entered the Great Hall and sat in their usual places at the Gryffindor table. A small explosion made Riley jump and turn around.  
  
"Blast!" muttered Seamus. His wand had apparently exploded yet another time, and now Seamus' eyebrows were rapidly burning up. Dean Thomas, Seamus' best friend, threw a glass of water at his fiery brows. Seamus sputtered. "Thanks, Dean."  
  
"What happened?" Riley asked Dean.  
  
"Seamus has been having a spot of trouble in Charms. He can't the Infedelius Charm quite right, so he's been practicing extra-hard to try and make up for it. Unfortunately, every time he tries to do it his wand explodes."  
  
"And you've haven't been to see Flitwick about it?" Seamus shook his head. "Well, you probably should. He'll help you with it."  
  
"Thanks. But in the meantime, what am I to do about my eyebrows? I can't go walking around with them looking like this."  
  
"Get Parvati or Lavender to lend you an eyebrow pencil. It works wonders."  
  
Seamus thought for a moment. "Yeah, alright."  
  
At that moment, Riley noticed the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan enter the Great Hall, looking rather pleased with themselves. "I'll be back in a moment," she whispered to Seamus and Dean. Ducking under the table, Riley crawled between the two rows of knees, being careful not to tread on any feet. She finally reached Lee's Nikes and the twins' trademark yellow Converse All-Stars.  
  
"Pantena provea!" she muttered fiercely, tapping her wand on the boys' shoes. Immediately a great burst of laughter broke out in the Hall. Riley crawled her way back to her seat and raised her head just in time to see Fred, George, and Lee realize what had happened. Fred, sporting bright purple hair, had put his head on the table and begun guffawing hysterically. George, the proud owner of a lime-green mane, was examining Lee's own neon pink dreadlocks.  
  
"Was that you?" Ron asked over the noise. Riley nodded, cheeks pink.  
  
"I owed Fred for that little stunt at lunch the other day."  
  
"That was bloody brilliant!" cried Dean enthusiastically.  
  
"Thanks! Hey Dean, are you growing dreadlocks?" she asked, noticing for the first time.  
  
"Lee Jordan's leaving at the end of this year. Somebody's got to do it!"  
  
"They look really awesome! Hey, do you mind if I . . . ?"  
  
"Not at all! Just, could you color them red and blue? England's playing in the World Cup this summer, and it would be really cool if you could do that."  
  
"Oh, do you follow?" Riley pointed her wand at Dean's hair and muttered the Hair-Dying Hex. This led to a conversation about England's odds in the World Cup; some, like Riley, were sure they didn't ("They haven't a chance, Brazil's going to take it all,"), but stalwart Brits like Dean and Dennis Creevey were more optimistic ("They're going all the way this year, I can feel it,"). The other Muggle-Born Gryffindors all participated in this highly debatable conversation. It turned out that one of the Second Years, Natalie McDonald, had been lucky enough to get tickets for the Ireland-Denmark game in Japan-Korea 2002.  
  
In Charms that afternoon, Professor Flitwick (who had apparently heard about Riley and the Hair-Dying Hex) asked for her to give the class a demonstration. Many of the students left lessons that day with their hair dyed in the colors of their favorite Quidditch – or soccer – team. The twins spent that evening begging Riley to charm the entire Gryffindor team's hair red and gold before the next match. 


	7. Matchmaker, Matchmaker

The author would like to publicly apologize for the lack of tangible relevancy to the story in Chapter Six: The Hair-Dying Hex. Unfortunately, the author was experiencing a rare, more dangerous form or writer's block. This lack of creativity is due to the death of the author's favorite teacher.  
  
Mr. Jimmy Baker passed away June 2nd, 2002 after having a stroke two weeks earlier. He had been in a coma from the time of the stroke until the time of his death. The author was one of seven witnesses to Mr. Baker's stroke. His 9th grade Biology students will all miss him and value the time that they had Mr. Baker as their teacher. This story is dedicated to him.  
  
- Elemmírë  
  
  
  
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Disclaimer: Everything that is even remotely good or imaginative belongs to JK Rowling, Goddess of Writing. I own all the crappy stuff :-).  
  
CHAPTER SEVEN: Matchmaker, Matchmaker  
  
Riley was bored. It had been a week since her last prank and schoolwork kept her busy until Friday night. She'd done some extra O.W.L. review, but once Riley could name every major accomplishment of Aquilus the Artful and make a Scintillation Solution in her sleep, she'd decided that she'd done enough studying for one day. The only remorse Riley felt for her old school were the loud parties the students had every Friday night. To bad Hogwarts doesn't have a tradition like that, she thought regretfully. Stretched out on her favorite scarlet couch in the deserted Gryffindor common room, Riley stared at the ceiling and tried vainly to think of something to do.  
  
The portrait hole blew open. Looking up, Riley saw Fred and George fly into the common room. The twins collapsed, laughing, onto the heavily carpeted floor.  
  
"Hey guys, what's up?" George finally stopped wheezing long enough to spot the pretty girl.  
  
"Alright, Riles?" said Fred. "Budge up, we want a seat too." Riley sat up obediently and arranged herself in the corner of the couch.  
  
"So, what are you two up to?"  
  
"Up to?" One look at the twins 'innocent' faces confirmed Riley's hunch.  
  
"Yeah, up to." She raised an elfin brow.  
  
Fred began to laugh, tears pouring down his face. George looked a bit disgruntled. "It's not that funny, Fred, really it isn't."  
  
Fred, shaking, pointed at his brother. "We were coming out of the one-eyed witch – went to Zonko's," he choked. George snorted sullenly. "George fell out of the witch and landed right on top of that Ravenclaw prefect. The short-haired blonde one, you know."  
  
"Sabrina Newton?"  
  
Fred nodded. "That's the one. She took twenty points." At this statement, both boys lost all control. The common room rang with their almost-painful laughs.  
  
Riley furrowed her brow. "What's funny about losing House points?"  
  
"Well –" George grinned demonically "– in the dark, it was next to impossible to see our robes. She assumed we were Slytherins –" more giggles "– so we 'accidentally' protested the punishment, and ended up with her taking a round twenty points from 'our' House."  
  
"Stroke of brilliance, I must admit," gasped Riley between screams of laughter. "I had no idea Sabrina Newton could be so ditzy."  
  
George's impassioned retort greatly surprised both Riley and Fred. "She's not a bit ditzy! It was dark, that's all. She's very smart, really . . . and pretty . . ." Riley shot Fred a look and both smiled.  
  
"Hey George, why don't you go on up to bed? It's alright, I'll be up in a minute." Fred prodded his twin in the direction of the boys' dormitories.  
  
George frowned. "But I haven't finished my Transfiguration homework yet."  
  
"Tomorrow's Saturday, George," Riley sighed. "We don't have classes. God, you'd be dangerous with a brain."  
  
"Oh. Right. Well, night, then." He waved vaguely and set off for bed. As soon as George was out of immediate sight, Riley sprang to her feet and began to pace excitedly as an amused Fred looked on.  
  
"Before you get too deep in thought . . . want to share whatever brilliant plan you have in mind?"  
  
She paused and turned to him. "I've had problems with that prefect you mentioned – Sabrina Newton?" Fred nodded. "Ever since she became a prefect, she's been walking around like she's got a quill up her butt. Her own friends have seen it; I was talking to Mandy Brocklehurst and Sally- Anne Perks, and Sabrina took five points off both of them for whistling in the corridors. They'd probably be willing to help us."  
  
"Help us what?" Fred looked confused.  
  
"It's obvious that George, um – what is it that you Brits say? Fancies her?" Fred nodded. "If George and Bree started going out, George might regain some of his sanity and Sabrina would lighten up!" Riley gave him a perfect imitation of George's earlier demonic grin. "Plus, it'll be fun for us."  
  
"Good one, Riles!" Fred high-fived her, much to the astonishment of both. "I think you're rubbing off on me. This should be a challenge, though. George and Sabrina Newton are about as different as two people can be." For some reason, Fred's latter comment made Riley think of Malfoy. She shook her head rapidly, as if to rid herself of the thought.  
  
"Yeah . . ." she yawned. "But right now, I think I'd better go to bed. Hogsmeade weekend tomorrow. G'night Fred." She gave him a quick, affectionate hug and a peck on the cheek.  
  
"Night, Riles."  
  
* * *  
  
It was raining in Hogsmeade but that didn't dampen the students' spirits. Honeydukes was packed, surprising no one. Riley pushed her way through a bunch of Hufflepuffs and made her way to Mandy Brocklehurst, Lisa Turpin, and Sally-Anne Perks, who were standing in front of the Chocolate Frogs display. She accidentally bumped into a tall, blonde figure.  
  
"Watch it, I'm walking here – Malfoy."  
  
"O'Connor." He raised a devious eyebrow. "You might want to be a bit more polite to those who know about the skeletons in your closet."  
  
They stared at each other, neither willing to break eye contact. Finally, Malfoy turned and left. Riley shook her head and continued swimming through the masses of people until she reached the Ravenclaws.  
  
"Morning Mandy, Lisa, Sally-Anne."  
  
"Morning Riley, how are you?"  
  
"Fine, thanks. I think I may have a little solution to Sabrina's problem." Riley went on to explain her (rather one-sided) conversation with Fred the night before. Both girls nodded thoughtfully.  
  
"George Weasley, though?" said Mandy. "Do you really think she'd go for that?"  
  
"Oh, come on," Riley cajoled. "Who better to get Bree less up-tight than one of Hogwarts' leading pranksters?"  
  
"It'll be tricky, but it's worth a shot."  
  
After recruiting the three Ravenclaws, Riley went to fetch Erin Kingsberry and Jamie Baker, some of Sabrina's Hufflepuff friends. The six girls met up with Fred Weasley and Terry Boot, a Ravenclaw, in The Three Broomsticks. Carefully, quietly, they began to outline their plan of action.  
  
* * *  
  
In two hours, the plot had become considerably simpler. Erin and Jamie were to be in charge of writing admirer notes to George, while Terry and Lisa ('Ravenclaw's Cutest Couple') sent love letters to Bree. Riley had a much more complicated job, unfortunately.  
  
"Remember," Riley whispered to Mandy and Sally-Anne as they walked back to the castle, "Trophy room at ten o'clock."  
  
"Bree won't pass up a chance to catch students out of bed. With a plan like this, how could we lose?" 


	8. The Trophy Room

Thanx to all who reviewed – Aniron, Sam Volz, Shigatsu, Heather the Hobbit, Elerian, izzy, Aniron (again), and Spunkz the wacked out Spaz. To Spunkz: I can just imagine a chocolate-covered Snape (mm, yummy). Special thanx to Aniron for coming back and reviewing every chapter – we'll get Adam to read HP if it's the last thing we do.  
  
Hope you all enjoy Chapter 8!  
  
-Elemmírë  
  
PS – For future reference, my name is Quenya (Elvish); it means "star- jewel". Unoriginal, I know.  
  
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Disclaimer: I WISH I could keep Fred Weasley and Draco Malfoy (can I, please?) but they belong to JK Rowling. ::mutters:: Lucky JK Rowling.  
  
  
  
CHAPTER EIGHT – The Trophy Room  
  
  
  
"Riley! Oi!" Riley looked up in time to see Fred rushing towards her, parchment in hand. Madam Pince glowered at him, and Fred slowed down – barely.  
  
"Fred! Nice to see you, too. Are those the –"  
  
"Yeah. Jamie and Erin finished first, but the other two – er – the other two –"  
  
"Great. Let's see it," said Riley, ignoring Fred's sudden loss for words. The first one was written by the two Hufflepuffs, and was a reasonably good impression of a panicked George.  
  
"Bree – Having trouble with those Healing Charms Flitwick was going on about the other day. D'you think you could help? Meet me at ten in the Trophy Room. Love, George."  
  
Riley snickered. "Love, George – nice touch. Here, let me read the other one." The next note was much more disappointing.  
  
"My darling George, I have fallen madly, hopelessly, desperately in love with you. I long to behold your angelic face and kiss your luscious lips. Come to me in the Trophy Room at ten. With everlasting love, Sabrina."  
  
Riley made a face. "Excuse me while I BARF. Who wrote this?"  
  
"Actually, I did," Fred said sheepishly. "Terry and Lisa decided to pursue more – intimate – endeavors."  
  
"Ugh. Bad mental image. Well, we'll need to do this one over again. Geez, Fred, didn't you think about what you would want a girl to write to you?" Fred shook his head. "We need run-to-me, not run-for-the-hills. It needs to be much more demanding – like this." She quickly scribbled a note on a scrap of parchment. Fred picked it up and read it.  
  
"George – I can't stand it anymore. Every time I see you, I get so turned on. Only you can help me. I'll be in the Trophy Room at ten tonight. Prepare to be snogged senseless – Bree."  
  
Fred handed the note back to Riley. "That's loads better than I could have done. I almost feel like running off to the Trophy Room myself," he said with a half-laugh.  
  
"Exactly. It adds extra urgency," she giggled. "Plus it gets George all 'excited' before he gets there. He'll hardly be able to keep his hands off poor Bree. We'll mail those at nine-thirty, so the effect doesn't wear off and they don't realize what we've done."  
  
"Let's go get some school owls." The Gryffindors hurried out of the library, missing an exasperated look from Madam Pince.  
  
* * *  
  
Riley checked her watch from her well-hidden post in the hallway. Nine fifty-five; in a few more minutes, George and Sabrina would appear. Sneaking closer, she chekced the Trophy room for occupants. The room was empty, so when Riley heard footsteps in the adjoining corridor she cleaned out fast.  
  
George arrived first. To Riley's extreme chagrin, it took Sabrina almost two minutes longer to get there. Checking the hall for other students, Sabrina then cautiously entered the room – closing the door behind her. Riley breathed a sigh of relief; the closed door was crucial to the plot.  
  
Darting forward, she muttered "Locius!" under her breath and tapped the heavy brass doorknob with her wand. No sooner had she done this, angry voices could be heard. The doorknob rattled, but Riley knew they weren't going anywhere. The charm she had used was one of her own invention. It prevented a door from being opened unless the original spell-caster said the incantation backwards and turned the knob.  
  
Twenty minutes later, the furious, frustrated pounding on the door and shouts for help had died away. Riley imagined George was having the time of his life and wished there was a way for her to check. A drawling voice behind her made her jump.  
  
"O'Connor, what are you doing out of the Gryffindor dormitories at this time of night?"  
  
"Oh no, not you," Riley muttered. Malfoy AGAIN. Didn't he ever feel like leaving her alone?  
  
He drew closer. "What was that?"  
  
She gave him a purposely forced smile. "I said, 'Was that taboo?' I didn't know that wandering the corridors at night looking for people to hex was against the rules."  
  
"Ought to be more careful with whom you use your sarcasm on. Not all people are as benevolent as I."  
  
She raised one eyebrow. "Yeah? Like who?"  
  
Malfoy shrugged. "Filch, for example."  
  
Heavy footsteps and a meow from the adjoining corridor made both exclaim in anger and fear, "Filch!" Malfoy dove for the handle of the Trophy room, then cursed under his breath. "Locked." He pulled out his wand. "Alohomora!"  
  
Riley exhaled in exasperation. "Oh, move over," she said impatiently. Filch's footsteps drew closer. With a whispered "Suicol!" and a tap on the knob, the door swung open. Malfoy and Riley fell into the room, surprising and embarrassing a very mussed George and Sabrina. They looked as though they had been very busy, to Riley's immense satisfaction.  
  
"Hey –" George began, but Malfoy clapped a hand to his mouth.  
  
"Quiet! Filch is coming this way!" Riley hissed, then performed the Locius Charm once more. Luck seemed to be with her. For the second time that night, the doorknob rattled immediately after Riley said the incantation. A crash from the floor above caught everyone's attention.  
  
"Peeves!" came Filch's muffled voice from the other side of the door. Several seconds later, George spoke again.  
  
"It's alright now. Filch'll be ages writing up Peeves' report."  
  
Riley relaxed and leaned her back against the door, noticing that George and the pretty Ravenclaw prefect were holding hands. "Thank God."  
  
"What were you two doing out here at this time of night?" asked Sabrina curiously.  
  
"We were – "  
  
"Walking!" Riley interrupted Malfoy quickly. "We were walking around and, um, bumped into Filch and Mrs. Norris. But now we've got to go – come on, Malfoy – " She grabbed his wrist and hauled him towards the door.  
  
"Oh, and Riles?"  
  
She turned to look at him, blinking innocently. "Yes, George?"  
  
"GET YOUR OWN ROOM!" Riley shut the door, just in time to block the Medal of Magical Merit George had hurled at her.  
  
She caught up to Malfoy and impulsively grabbed the sleeve of his robes. "What were you doing out here, Malfoy?"  
  
He turned his arrogant face towards her. "I, O'Connor, am a prefect. I was merely doing my rounds."  
  
"Oh. I see."  
  
"What kind of an excuse do you have for breaking curfew?"  
  
Riley snickered unexpectedly. "Playing matchmaker." He looked skeptical. "Didn't you see George and Bree when we walked in on that? Two of my very satisfied – if unknowing – victims."  
  
"And do you always do this, this 'matchmaking', as you call it?"  
  
"Not really. I only speed along what would have happened anyway. People should be happy. I mean, don't you think everyone deserves someone to give them unconditional acceptance and trust?"  
  
His face was impassive. In the darkness of the corridors, Riley couldn't see his eyes. After a long pause, he spoke again. "While your idealisms are admirable, they are not entirely true. Not everyone should be forgiven."  
  
It didn't occur to Riley until later that night, safe in Gryffindor Tower, that Malfoy could have been referring to himself. 


	9. Suspicions

Hey everybody!  
  
I just had a LONG AND HORRIBLE day of Driver's Ed – the woman who teaches the class is seriously La Diabla, which is fitting seeing as she's the Spanish teacher. (Thank God I take French.)  
  
I wanted to thank my wonderful reviewers – Aniron (as always), classica – I wrote you a big long email! Thanks so much for your response! I have always preferred constructive criticism to any other kind of review. (HINT HINT.) Mitie mouse – I tried to email you, but my stupid email sent a letter back saying that the message had been returned. Aww! I wanted to thank you for awesome constructive criticism as well.  
  
If you're considering reviewing my fic, do tell me if anything's wrong with it! I can't make it better if I don't know what's wrong! As it is my brainchild, I believe it can do no wrong. However, this is NOT true, it has its flaws, and I'd like to know what they are so I can make it a better fic. CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM, PEOPLE! I can take the pain!  
  
Is it just me, or is it sometimes impossible to get onto ff.net, much less read anything or do any updating?  
  
Cheers!  
  
-Elemmírë  
  
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Disclaimer: If someone offers me a large sum of money (hint, hint) I will be more than happy to spew characters off the top of my head. Until then, I'm just borrowing from JK Rowling.  
  
CHAPTER NINE: Suspicions  
  
After helping "Mr. and Mrs. George Weasley" (as Fred called them) find each other, Riley thought that the hard part of her job – adjusting to a new school – was over. Unfortunately, the real work was just beginning. Professors in every class decided that early October was an ideal time to pile on the work, making Riley's shoulders appear lopsided as she carried her gargantuan bookbag from class to class. Ron Weasley almost cried in History of Magic when Professor Binns stated that to complete their latest essay, they would have to read "Hogwarts, A History". Hermione looked very pleased; from what Riley gathered from Harry and Ron, she'd been trying to convince people to read it for ages.  
  
Quidditch practices grew more and more strenuous, as Katie worked the Gryffindor team hard for the upcoming match against Ravenclaw. With every physically exhausting practice, the team grew more disgruntled. Finally, George broke.  
  
"Katie Bell, I don't know what you've been drinking lately, but it has obviously gone to your head. We've got an immaculate team this year! If you keep pushing us, we're going to become so tired we won't be ready for the Ravenclaw match. I mean, we know it's important to train hard, but don't you think this is becoming a little ridiculous? And look at you, Katie, you're a mess. Up all night every night, working on strategy and surprise formations, you're practically failing Arithmancy. Katie, this needs to stop."  
  
To the great astonishment of the entire team, Katie slumped onto the bench. "I – I know. I can't help it. I just feel like I'm being compared to Wood all the time. God only knows how he did it, but – but I just, I just can't. I know I'm letting everybody down," a lone tear trickled down Katie's cheek. She put her face in her hands and began to cry. The rest of the team stood there uncomfortably until Fred sat down and put his arm around her, patting her back awkwardly.  
  
"There, there, Katie . . . you go on and have a good cry. We'll work something out. Alicia, take Katie back up to the dormitories and PUT HER IN BED. She needs rest more than anything right now. In fact, you'd best sleep through lessons tomorrow, Katie. We'll tell Dumbledore what happened." Katie nodded and stood up, allowing Alicia to slip a supporting arm around her.  
  
"Look, guys, I know it's been tough lately." Riley made herself comfortable; Fred was giving one of his "speeches".  
  
"The teachers aren't helping matters," Seamus added glumly.  
  
"Yeah, the teachers aren't helping matters," agreed Fred. "We're wearing ourselves too thin. So, this is what I propose: we take the rest of the week off. Get some sleep. Pass a test. Hell, let's all go down to The Three Broomsticks and get drunk, for all I care. But take this week and recuperate. We need to be our best for the Ravenclaw match, we're no good to Gryffindor if we're falling off our brooms." He looked around, but no one challenged his words. "Right, then. One week, and then it's back to training like madmen – and women. Until then . . . let's just have fun, shall we?"  
  
One by one they all nodded, then gathered there equipment and headed back to the castle. Riley trudged between Harry and Seamus, then new Gryffindor Chaser.  
  
About halfway to the castle, Seamus looked at Harry, who then cleared his throat and said, "Ah – Riley?"  
  
"Yes, Harry?" Riley replied, curious to find out why he was suddenly so tense.  
  
"I was wondering – well, I know it's none of my business, but –"  
  
"Harry." He looked at her. "Spit it out."  
  
"Well, I, erm, heard from Ron – who heard from George – that you and Malfoy were, er, out together. After curfew."  
  
"After – oh. Oh, poor Harry." Riley laughed. "Poor Fred, too. No wonder he's been acting so cold to me the last couple of days. I'd forgotten all about that."  
  
"Now listen here, missy," Seamus started in sternly. "No self- respecting Gryffindor goes sneaking around with any Slytheri – "  
  
"Hold on a second, Seamus," Harry interrupted. "Forgot all about what?"  
  
So Riley explained to the two boys about setting up George and Sabrina, bumping into Malfoy, and Filch's intrusion. Seamus had a few choice words about both Malfoy and Filch, but for the most part both listened quietly. By the end of Riley's monologue, Harry looked heartily embarrassed.  
  
"Sorry, Riles, really. When we heard about –"  
  
"WE heard?" Riley asked disbelievingly. "How many people did George tell?"  
  
"It's not important, Riley, really it isn't. The point is, Draco Malfoy isn't exactly the sort of person we'd expect you to be, ah, you know, with."  
  
Riley tilted her head to one side and fixed them both with a piercing gaze. "Explain."  
  
"Malfoy's always been prejudiced against Muggles and Muggle-born witches and wizards. His father, Lucius Malfoy, is a Death Eater. Volde – I mean, You-Know-Who's second-in-command. His family's got a long history of involvement with the Dark Arts. Not a savory type, really."  
  
Riley scoffed. "You think Malfoy is a Death Eater? Oh, come on! Somehow I have a hard time believing that. I mean, sure he's rude and egocentric, but he never really struck me as Death Eater material."  
  
Harry looked serious. "You've got to be careful, Riley. You only met Malfoy a month ago; you don't know what he's capable of. Stay close to the Gryffindors, Fred and George in particular. They might be irresponsible at times, but they care for you. I don't know anyone more capable of protection. And steer clear of Marcus Flint, too. Word has it he's got it in for you, wants you out of commission before the first match."  
  
"Thanks for the concern, Harry." Riley sighed. "I appreciate it, really I do, but honestly I don't think it's anything I can't handle. Don't worry," she flashed a cheeky grin, "If I need help I'll ask someone. Look, it's Lavender. Go on, Seamus, your girlfriend's waiting. Harry, you too."  
  
The next day Riley discovered that Fred and George had attached themselves to her as her unofficial bodyguards. It was very trying, dealing with two very tall and mischievous extensions of herself; Riley missed the first half of lunch that afternoon attempting to explain to the Weasley twins that they did NOT need to accompany her into the girls' bathroom.  
  
Riley was thankful when her next class, Care of Magical Creatures, began. Hagrid looked very pleased with himself, and ushered the students into his cabin, looking for all the world like an enormous sheepdog.  
  
"That's it, Neville, just keep moving . . . Crabbe, Goyle, you'd best not open that or you'll all be sorry." Seated quite comfortably on Hagrid's giant oak kitchen table was a rather large cardboard box. Inside the box were several dozen –  
  
"Kneazles!" cried Parvati Patil ecstatically. "Kneazle kittens! Look at those cute little furry paws! Oh, Hagrid, they're just babies."  
  
Hagrid nodded enthusiastically. "Thought you'd like them better'n the blast ended-skrewts, they started getting out of 'and round the middle of last summer. 'Ere, we're al going to take them out for a little walk . . . two to a Kneazle, c'mon now . . ." To Riley's great surprise, she found herself paired with Malfoy. Hagrid smiled and, when Malfoy wasn't looking, whispered, "If 'e's with 'Arry or 'Ermione or Ron, 'e'll be sure to make trouble. Just keep an eye on 'im, will you?"  
  
"Alright, Hagrid," said Riley cautiously. She picked up their green- and-gold striped Kneazle and followed Malfoy outside. Or, tried to: Malfoy got his sleeve caught on Hagrid's door and Riley walked straight into him, effectively knocking him down Hagrid's front stoop. "Oops."  
  
Malfoy's robes had been knocked awry. He pulled on his left sleeve, trying to hide – well, whatever it was. A lone smudge of something stood out on his deathly pale skin.  
  
"Malfoy, you've got something on your arm." Riley pointed, illustrating what she meant.  
  
"Er, thanks." He rubbed self-consciously at his sleeve again, then looked around. "Where'd that little Kneazle go off to?"  
  
It was too late. Malfoy and Riley quickly realized that the green-and- gold blur was heading straight for the Forbidden Forest. 


	10. The Forbidden Forest

Disclaimer: Two words - Not. Mine.  
  
CHAPTER TEN - The Forbidden Forest  
  
  
Even at late afternoon, the Forbidden Forest was dark as sin, filling Riley with an intense apprehension and sense of foreboding. Leaves crunched beneath her feet and a lone owl hooted in the distance. Remembering the stories she had heard of the forest, Riley gulped audibly - surely the tales couldn't all be true?  
  
"Did it have a name?"  
  
Riley frowned, puzzled. "Did what have a name?"  
  
"That cat-thing. I thought we might call for it, but that can't be done if we don't know its name."  
  
"I guess it's too bad we ran out of the cabin so fast, then. Hagrid never told me what the kitten was called. I don't even know if it has a name."  
  
"Pity. It would have made the job much simpler." Malfoy's voice grew especially terse on the last two words.  
  
They walked on in silence until the darkness forced Malfoy to pull out his wand and mutter, "Lumos". Trees seemed to pry at Riley's robes with twisted, knobbly fingers. She walked on boldly, determined not to let Malfoy know she was afraid.  
  
"Take my hand," Malfoy said abruptly, peering at the brush.  
  
"Why?" Riley drew back slightly.  
  
"Lessens our chance of being separated." Tentatively, Riley reached out and grasped the strong white fingers of Malfoy's right hand. He shifted his palm briskly until he had encased her hand in his own. To Riley's surprise and delight, Malfoy's touch was cool and fresh.  
  
They plunged deeper into the Forest. The occasional owl or twig-cracking-underfoot was alarming, but didn't particularly frighten either student. For a while, neither said anything. It was a long while. The sun came up. The sun went down. Grass grew and flowers bloomed. Time passed. Winter changed into Spring. Spring changed into Summer. Summer changed back into Winter. And Winter gave Spring and Summer a miss and went straight on into Autumn.   
  
Until two hours later, when Riley heard noises behind her.  
  
"What was that? Shh, listen."  
  
"How the bloody hell am I supposed to know? Let's just find the Kneazle brat and get out of here."  
  
"Shh!" she repeated urgently, gesturing behind her. Malfoy did something that could have been rolling his eyes - 'could have' being the operative phrase, as this was Malfoy and he wasn't given to the rotation of his ocular appendages - and glanced behind them.  
  
"Oh, look, it's only that little brute," he said in a rather 'I told you so' manner.  
  
"He's not a little brute," said Riley admonishingly as she released Malfoy's pale hand and stooped to pick up the kitten. "He's the very adorable, very obnoxious Galahad, too brave for his own good and too stupid to know the difference."  
  
"Galahad? What, did you just make that up?"  
  
"No. I figured he should have some kind of moniker, if we're going to go charging into the Forbidden Forest after him. With animals, it's best - " A low rumble interrupted Riley's speech. "Malfoy, I thought you ate before we left. It really is true that teenage guys have bottomless pits for stomachs."  
  
"That wasn't me." Malfoy's voice sounded oddly constrained.  
  
"Then what was it?" Riley twisted up to look him in the face, but he wasn't looking at her. Instead, Malfoy's attention was focused on the large, ungainly, five-legged monster coming toward them at a very high speed.  
  
"Holy crap."  
  
The Quintaped rushed at Riley and Malfoy, oblivious to all of their attempts to distract it or ward it off. Luckily the surrounding trees were difficult for the creature to maneuver around, giving the two a couple extra minutes. After two unsuccessful Stunning Spells and an Impedimenta that didn't work quite as well as one might have hoped, Malfoy's head cleared enough to get them to a safer position. "Up the tree!"  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
"Well, do you think that anything with five legs and a huge, hairy body is going to come climbing after us?"  
  
Riley paused. "You've got a point."  
  
Both scrambled up a nearby oak, which fortunately had enough branches on the lower regions of the tree that they could climb it rather quickly. They had barely anchored themselves in the higher branches when a force equal to that of a small elephant hit the tree and shook the limbs dangerously.  
  
"What are we going to do now?" Riley cried desperately to Malfoy, who was positioned on a nearby limb.  
  
"Call for help, I suppose!" Though both yelled desperately, it was to no avail. Riley steeled herself for another blow when, suddenly -   
"Hey, what is that thing?"  
  
Malfoy squinted in the direction that she was pointing. "If I had to guess, I'd say it was some kind of flying car . . ."  
  
As it turned out, Malfoy was right. A large, hideous contraption of turquoise metal went barreling through the air and stopped just short of the oak's mighty branches.  
  
"Get in!"  
  
"But I can't drive!" Riley yelled over the Quintaped's grunts of effort.  
  
"Then I'll drive!" Malfoy hopped into the driver's seat of the ugly car and had barely enough time to put his hands on the steering wheel when the Quintaped hit the oak a second time and the tree began to fall.  
  
"Malfoy!"  
  
Moving quickly, Malfoy revved up the engine and went diving after Riley and the newly-christened Galahad. Swerving between two of the larger branches, he managed to grab the back of her robes and hoist her into the passenger seat, panting lightly. He hit the accelerator and blew out of the canopy of trees.  
  
After he caught his breath, Malfoy turned to look at the girl in the seat beside him. She was turned towards the passenger-side window, looking out over the Forest with wide eyes at the crescent moon that now hung in the sky. He shook his head and continued driving. Minutes passed.  
  
"O, swear not by the moon, the inconsistent moon, that monthly changes in her circled orb, lest thy love prove likewise variable." Riley's voice broke the silence that had prevailed previously. To her surprise, she received a response.  
  
"What shall I swear by?"  
  
"Do not swear at all; or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry, and I'll believe thee."  
  
Malfoy snorted. "I wasn't aware that they taught the great writers such as Shakespeare in America."  
  
"They do." She took a shaky breath. "Thank you."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For - oh, this is going to sound SO clichéd - for saving my life." She turned to look at him. "Since that was what you did and all."  
  
"Yes. I guess I did, didn't I." It was a statement, not a question.  
  
"I owe you one."  
  
The car slowly drifted to a stop in midair. "I wonder what you'll do to repay me, eh, O'Connor?"  
  
She shrugged. "Haven't had time to think about it, really. I could do your homework or something. Help you study."  
  
A slow smile spread across his face. "I've got an idea, I think."  
  
"Really? What is it?"  
  
"Close your eyes," he ordered.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Just do it." Riley raised her eyebrows at this, but complied. She could feel him scooting closer on the car's seat, tracing her jawbone gently with his thumb, and then tilting her head to one side. "Malfoy, what -"  
  
"Shh," he murmured. "You talk too much. If there's anything I hate about American girls, it's their gift of gab."  
  
"'Gift of gab'? You sound like - "  
  
He made a frustrated sound. "You're ruining this. You owe me, remember?" She nodded sullenly. He bent slowly, very slowly, and brushed his mouth against the soft skin beneath her ear. She became tense almost immediately. Sensing this, Malfoy massaged the sides of her jaw until she opened her eyes to look at him again.  
  
"Don't open your eyes," he told her in a chiding manner.  
  
"But what are you doing?"  
  
"I'm trying to get you to relax. Now, close your eyes again so I can finish this."  
  
She made a visible effort to loosen her muscles and shut her eyes once more. Malfoy smiled to himself, then leaned down to kiss her eyebrows and lashes. Riley's small hands twined around Malfoy's neck, but did not massage his hair as he would have expected her to do. Odd.  
  
"Only a little bit longer," he whispered, and noticed with pleasure her sharp intake of breath as he lightly, languidly, tongued over her pulse point. Malfoy leaned in for what was promising to be a mind-blowing snog when something caught his eye. He sat up and stared for a moment, straightening his robes absently.  
  
It was Riley's Gryffindor tie. 


	11. Muggle Music

Hey, y'all! I had one more thing to add - I've got an online DeadJournal. The URL is www.deadjournal.com/users/pikkle87 if you want to check it out.  
  
Also - WEEZER RULES! =W=  
  
Kay, got that out of my system now . . . lol . . .  
  
-Elemmírë  
  
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Disclaimer: It's not mine, Your Honor, I swear! Don't sue me!  
  
  
  
CHAPTER ELEVEN - Muggle Music  
  
  
  
The innocent maroon-and-gold tie, blissfully unaware of the damage it was about to cause, flapped in the sudden breeze that overtook the car. Malfoy felt as shocked as if he'd gotten drunk, passed out, and woken up in Potter's bed. No Slytherin - especially a Malfoy - got involved with a Gryffindor. He couldn't have her running around telling her little friends that he, a Malfoy, had snogged a Gryffindor.  
  
But what to do about his current situation?  
  
Quickly muttering an obscure hex under his breath, he grinned maliciously. The young Gryffindor wouldn't know what hit her. A snickering Malfoy turned back to the wheel, but stopped to gaze impassively at her for a moment . . . oh, crap. He let his head land heavily on the steering wheel. Damn it to hell, he'd have to watch himself. He'd almost gotten carried away.  
  
His inner Slytherin wanted to justify the most self-deprecating - and guiltily pleasurable - experience. Mentally, Malfoy blamed it on the near- death experience and left it at that. When her newly acquired, flashy freckles caught his eye once more, he felt a moment of self-satisfaction.  
  
"All right," he said, smug once more. She opened her eyes again, but this time he didn't stop her. Riley felt instant disappointment. She'd been sure he'd just ask for a few weeks' worth of homework, or something easy; instead, she'd been landed with a psychological mystery. She couldn't help wondering what the sudden change of personality meant, so - being Riley O'Connor and given to that sort of activity - decided to find out.  
  
"That was kind of typical, wasn't it?" she asked sarcastically in an uncanny imitation of Malfoy's I'm-superior drawl. "You'd think the Great Draco Malfoy would be able to come up with something better than frantic groping in an ancient Ford Anglia. What will your 'Dark Lord' think?" He didn't reply, just pressed his foot on the accelerator once more and drove.  
  
Unfortunately, none of this served to relieve Riley of her self- imposed debt to the guy who was the only attractive boy in Hogwarts that she'd never consider getting emotionally tangled with. Riley was feeling inclined to go back for another round with the Quintaped, save Malfoy's life, and have it over and done with. The thought of owing anyone anything, Malfoy in particular, made her anxious and uneasy. She sneaked a peek at his face, which was drawn and weary but as impassive as usual. Riley grabbed Galahad, who had been batting at the ancient fuzzy pink dice dangling from the rearview mirror, and placed him gently on her lap. He curled up, gave a delicate pink-mouthed yawn, and slept purringly.  
  
Bored, Riley opened the dashboard compartment to withdraw the car owner's manual and a half-full bag of rotting toffees. After making a disgusted noise, she carelessly tossed the bag of toffees out of the car and into the Forest beneath them. An indignant exclamation made Malfoy slam on the brakes.  
  
"Hey! What'd you do that for?"  
  
"Who is that?" Riley whispered anxiously.  
  
"I dunno . . . but it seems to be human."  
  
The voice from below continued its irritated monologue. "It's really not nice to go around throwing disgusting, moldy candies at people! Look at me, I've got toffee in my hair! And it smells absolutely horrible!" The voice paused. "Well? Aren't you going to at least come and apologize?"  
  
"Hang on, we'll be right down!" Riley turned to Malfoy. "Do you think you can maneuver the car down there?"  
  
"I should say so," he replied, seemingly aggravated that she would even ask. "Do you doubt the powers of the great Draco Malfoy?"  
  
"Only when other people are around." The car zoomed downwards and stopped neatly in front of the chubby, curly-haired Hufflepuff boy waiting indignantly below.  
  
"I say, don't you at least have the decency to - ah, Rilsie-love! I haven't seen you in a bit. Whoa, where'd you get the car? I don't remember you saying anything about it, why didn't you tell us? And why're you riding around the Forbidden Forest with this, er, bloke?" He said all this rather quickly.  
  
"Justin, hey!" Riley said happily as she opened the door for the Hufflepuff to get in. Justin Finch-Fletchley was the same year as Riley and Malfoy, and had often worked with Riley during Herbology. She got along with the forward, over-enthusiastic Hufflepuff quite well, although his cheeks did turn a bit pinker whenever a certain Hermione Granger was around.  
  
"I'm sorry about the toffees, but I really didn't realize anyone else would be in the forest at this time of night, let alone you. What were you doing, anyway?"  
  
The Hufflepuff's usually ruddy face paled slightly. "N-nothing," he stuttered, nervously pulling at the side of his robes. "I . . .was out for a walk and . . . got lost. Yeah, I got lost."  
  
Riley raised her eyebrows, but then decided that she shouldn't push the subject.  
  
"What is that on your nose, Rilsie?" Justin asked quickly, hoping Malfoy wouldn't ask questions as well.  
  
Riley's hand reached up to examine the appendage in question. "On my nose?" she repeated. "What d'you mean, what's on my nose? Is there something I should know about?"  
  
"Only a dozen or so little emerald dots," said Justin, who was very amused. "What, you didn't know they were there?"  
  
Riley pulled down the passenger-side mirror so she could see exactly WHAT Justin was on about, and just as he'd said, thirteen small lime-green freckles were prominently displayed on Riley's usually pale nose. She licked her thumb and tried to rub them off, until she put two and two together. "Malfoy?!?"  
  
He was the proud owner of a convincingly straight face. "Don't you like it? I always thought green would be a good look for you."  
  
"Get stuffed," she muttered sullenly.  
  
Before the minor disagreement could become a knock-down, drag-out fight, Justin - with unusual presence of mind - created a diversion.  
  
"What's this?" he asked with a seemingly innocent countenance, jabbing a small button on the dashboard. Riley scrambled to prevent him from twisting the knob, but it was too late.  
  
"DON'T! That's the - "  
  
The wail of a screaming guitar filled the formerly silent night air, as the three teens were knocked backwards by the sudden blast of horrifically loud rock music.  
  
"Turn it off! Turn it off!" Riley yelled over the incredible din.  
  
"I can't!" shrieked Justin, who had landed ungracefully in the back seat.  
  
"What the hell is this stuff?" Malfoy managed to get his two cents in, though the 'music' was blaring hard enough to pop eardrums.  
  
Riley's ears, unused though they were to sounds of such volume, strained to catch a few snippets of song. " . . . me understand it, I've been crawling in the dark looking for the answer - is it something more . . ."  
  
"Hoobastank!" she yelled, with some relief. If the music was too loud, at least it wasn't crappy.  
  
"Not as bad as you do!" Malfoy shot back indignantly.  
  
Riley rolled her eyes and finally managed to get her fingers on the stereo knob. The music was suddenly much less intrusive. "No, Hoobastank," she said. "They're a Muggle rock group."  
  
"No they're not," said Justin, offended.  
  
"What do you mean, they're not?"  
  
Justin shrugged. "Well, I grew up in a Muggle home and I've never heard of them."  
  
"That's because they're an American band. Just listen for a moment - they're really good." They listened. While Malfoy pursed his lips and shook his head, Justin had to agree. Or, to be more specific, Justin was suddenly reduced to a crazed fangirl.  
  
"Oh my GOD! This is fantastic! This is absolutely unbelievable!"  
  
Riley was startled by Justin's sudden show of enthusiasm. "I, ah, have the CD. You know, if you'd like to borrow it sometime. It's true, they're pretty good . . . although personally I like Incubus and Weezer better . . ." she trailed off as the next song began, much to Justin's disappointment.  
  
The tune was very familiar, but before it could register with Riley she heard Malfoy begin to sing in a low, husky voice.  
  
"We get it almost every night And when that moon gets big and bright It's supernatural delight Everybody dancin' in the moonlight . . ."  
  
Both Justin and Riley stared at him, eyes round with disbelief. Malfoy shrugged as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "What?"  
  
"You . . . singing . . . Muggle music." Justin shook his head rapidly.  
  
"It's strange, is all," Riley added, feeling semi-foolish. The song went on, with Malfoy driving complacently and singing the bits that he knew. He offered no explanations.  
  
* * *  
  
"Unbelievable!"  
  
Riley, who'd been dozing lightly for the past fifteen minutes, was jarred back into unpleasant reality by Justin's exclamation. "What?" she inquired drowsily.  
  
"Nobody's out there! Not a single student nor teacher is out there looking for us!"  
  
"I'd say that was a good thing if I were you. Means we haven't been missed, thank God. Unfortunately," Riley checked the clock on the dashboard, "this also means we're going to have to sneak into the castle."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because it got dark out ages ago, Finch-Fletchley, and the teachers will make hell if we don't get up to our respective dormitories all nice and quiet-like," said Malfoy irritably. "Now, we'll be on the front lawn in about three minutes, so this would be a good time to start thinking about how you'll get back to your House."  
  
"Gee Malfoy, that was unusually decent of you."  
  
He gave her a blatantly condescending look. "I wasn't trying to be kind, O'Connor. I merely pointed out that, if you or Finch-Fletchley here were to be discovered on the return from our little late-night adventure, you might oh-so-innocently inform one of the teachers that I, too, was involved."  
  
Justin turned to Riley, a disgusted look marring his plump face. "Funny how he assumes he won't be the one caught." She nodded in response.  
  
Malfoy parked the Anglia in the shade of the trees directly outside the Forbidden Forest. The three teens piled out of the car, Riley waving to the elderly machine as it trundled driverlessly back into the Forest. Justin raced up the lawn to the enormous double doors.  
  
As Riley walked up to the front stairs, Malfoy snatched her elbow roughly. Urgently he whispered, "No one hears about what happened tonight."  
  
"Think I'd let all of Gryffindor Tower know that I let you snog me? I don't think so, sweetheart. Not this millenium."  
  
His grip tightened viciously. "Your sarcasm is going to get you into a lot of trouble one of these days."  
  
She shoved him off. "Save it. It's late and this is the part where my narcoleptic tendencies take over. We can deal with that some other time." 


	12. Interlude in D Flat

INTERLUDE IN D FLAT  
  
  
  
"So . . . when are you writing the next chapter?"  
  
The Author sighed. "Go away, Malfoy. I'm studying for exams."  
  
"Studying?" Malfoy stared over her shoulder at the computer screen. " 'orchids or else: did u get my email?' That's not schoolwork, that's AOL Instant Messenger."  
  
"I'm taking a little break."  
  
"Right." He watched the Author's busily tapping fingers for a few seconds. "So. Which one are you?"  
  
"What? Oh, I'm Bouncing Weezle." She tried to hide a small smile.  
  
"That's not funny, you know."  
  
"Sure it is."  
  
"No. It's not."  
  
"Of course it is. 'Bouncing Weezle' combines two of my favorite things - Harry Potter and Weezer."  
  
"Don't you mean 'Draco Malfoy and Weezer'?"  
  
"Stuff it, you."  
  
"Pa-a-a-a, a-a-ain, you know I'm right, you know I'm ri-ight . . ."  
  
The Author clapped both hands over her ears in distress. "Stop it! I don't know why I ever lent you my CDs. Draco Malfoy singing Nirvana? Somehow I just don't think that was what J.K. Rowling had intended; it's just CREEPY."  
  
He smirked. "You know you love me."  
  
"Yeah. Right."  
  
"Everyone knows Riley's practically a Mary Sue . . . and you DID make me snog her last chapter . . ." He grinned at her. "Again, you KNOW you love me."  
  
"Get back in your shoebox."  
  
"I think not." Cheekily, he sat down on her lap and began to read the conversation in her AIM pop-up window. She shoved him to the ground.  
  
"Malfoy, I swear . . . if I didn't like you so much, I would've killed you off long ago."  
  
"If you liked me more, I'd be truly afraid."  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
Malfoy grabbed her ankles from his sitting position and refused to let go. The Author was clearly not pleased.  
  
"Unhand me NOW, Draco Malfoy, or you'll be lucky if you're snogging Argus Filch next chapter."  
  
"On second thought . . ." Malfoy scooted uneasily away towards the shoebox the Author had been keeping him in since the beginning of the story. As always, the Author was amazed to see him manage to tumble into the shoebox as if he were six inches tall, instead of six feet.  
  
"Hate it when he does that," she muttered to herself, as she brought up the Word document she'd been working on before her rude interruption.  
  
It read:  
  
My dear Readers,  
  
I would like to apologize for my neglect of my stories and of you. During the past few months, it has become difficult for me to spend as much time writing as I would like. Studying and my work at the theater have taken priority; however, over the holidays I hope to devote more time to my posts on FFNet, FictionAlley, and other fine webhosts.  
  
Thank you so much for your patience. If you have any questions/ideas/comments/concerns/random song lyrics you'd like to send me, my email address is intellectualdirtbag@yahoo.com, and my AIM is (as Malfoy mentioned earlier), Bouncing Weezle. You can also check out my DeadJournal at www.deadjournal.com/users/blood_of_ink . I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday, and I intend to have at least 3 chapters up before the first of the year.  
  
-The Author  
  
Satisfied, the Author uploaded it to add to Leo et Serpentia . . . which she hoped would be continued very soon.  
  
But at that moment, Malfoy decided to play "Hash Pipe" much too loud, and she scampered off to tell him what was what. 


	13. Pinkerton

DISCLAIMER: Standard procedure, neh? *Sighs.* Well, it's not mine. "Pinkerton" and all songs mentioned from that album belong to Weezer (as does "Island in the Sun", most unfortunately); "OK Computer" belongs to Radiohead, and it is an absolutely wonderful album as well - Tracks 2 and 6 especially. This entire chapter was written while listening to Ozma's "Rock and Roll Part III". Ozma's a rather obscure band who opened for Weezer last year, and I'm a really big fan of theirs. I'd suggest you all download their music/buy it/just LISTEN IN because they rock.  
  
  
  
CHAPTER 12 - Pinkerton  
  
  
  
Something cold, piercing, and very, very wet awoke Riley the next morning.  
  
Water.  
  
"What the - ! Fred and George WEASLEY!" Though her soft red-and-gold Gryffindor bed was very warm, Riley opted to chase the two snickering, red- headed demons around the girls' Fifth Year dormitory. It wasn't much of a competition, unfortunately; Fred and George took cover under the safe haven of Riley's bedspread. Hands on her hips, Riley hissed firmly to the giggling, Fred-and-George-shaped lumps.  
  
"And why, precisely, was I doomed to drown at - " she glanced at the bedside alarm " - six in the morning? It's a Saturday, for crying out loud. I need every bit of sleep I can get!" It didn't help, Riley mentally added to herself, that she'd been up till all hours the night before, waltzing around the Forbidden Forest with Draco Malfoy. How embarrassing. And now she had Fred and George and their VERY early morning gift as her own personal karma police.  
  
Ugh.  
  
"Well, actually - " came a voice from under the covers.  
  
"No excuses!"  
  
"But Riles - " another voice chimed in.  
  
"You'd better have something really good to say for yourself, both of you. Five words or less. Begin." Riley tapped her foot, waiting. Apparently the twins weren't quite sure what to say, because several insects lived out their natural lives in the time it took for them to answer.  
  
There was a thoughtful pause from the bed, then it spoke again. "Quidditch. Ravenclaw. Gryffindor. Keeper. Six-thirty."  
  
Riley froze. Quidditch . . . Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw. Six-thirty, Saturday.  
  
Oh, crap.  
  
"I thought that was next week . . ." she attempted lamely.  
  
The bed wriggled, and a few badly-concealed snorts floated out from under the covers. "Fraid not, Riles. Game's today."  
  
Riley stood there for a moment looking politely puzzled, then - out of nowhere - flew from her threatening position in front of the Weasleys to the trunk at the end of the bed. The lid of her mahogany furniture piece was thrown roughly open; robes, books, and an occasional CD went flying through the air as Riley frantically tore apart her trunk, in search of her Quidditch robes and broom.  
  
George poked his head out from under the covers. "I say, Riles. What's - " When a copy of Radiohead's "OK Computer" went whizzing by his head, George gulped and ducked back under the covers. "Suppose it's your business, then. Have fun, er . . . doing whatever it is you're doing. Carry on."  
  
Fred reached up long enough to snatch one of the flying CDs out of the air. "'Pinkerton'? What's this?"  
  
"Weezer. Best album ever. Heard 'Island in the Sun'?"  
  
"Well, no - "  
  
"Don't. Not worth it. But that right there," she gestured to the dark- grey CD, "is probably the best Rivers Cuomo ever wrote."  
  
"Rivers who?"  
  
Riley pulled her robes over her head, tying her hair up anxiously. "Honestly, Fred. How can you talk about Weezer when we've got a match to play?" Riley grabbed her broom and marched efficiently from the dormitory, leaving a puzzled Fred and George Weasley staring after her curiously.  
  
After a pause, Fred looked hesitantly down at the CD again. "Any idea what she's on about?"  
  
"Not a bit." George reached over, grabbed the CD, and examined the back thoughtfully. The boys clambered inelegantly out of the bed, and made their way down the stairs. Into the pocket of George's robes went "Pinkerton".  
  
"Come on, George. Can't play Quidditch with that in your pocket."  
  
"S'pose you're right," George sighed, and handed the album to the next person he came upon, who happened to be Lee Jordan.  
  
Lee took it and peered at it curiously. "'Pinkerton?' What's this?"  
  
"Doesn't that sound familiar," Fred muttered. "Listen, Lee, can you hang on to this until the match is over?"  
  
"I know what this is," said Lee, becoming a bit excited. "It's a Muggle CD! My uncle sent me a Walkman - that's what they play these on - for my birthday last year. It's still in good condition."  
  
"Right, Lee," said George, clapping him on the shoulder. "Just hang onto that, will you? There's a good chap."  
  
"But . . . " The twins had gone on, however, out the Portrait Hole. Lee was baffled. "But I've got to comment on the game," he protested sotto voce. "Pinkerton's" cover depicted a scene of some kind of Japanese-looking hillside overlooking a village, done carefully in dark navy and beige. The dreadlocked teen flipped the CD over, reading the back. "'Across the Sea, The Good Life, El Scorcho . . . I wonder where my Walkman is."  
  
* * *  
  
"Alright, chaps?" Riley was relieved to see Katie, looking much better than she had during the practice two weeks ago. Their fearless leader's nervous breakdown had thrown everyone on the Gryffindor House Quidditch team for a bit of a loop; it was nice to have things back to normal.  
  
"Big game today. We're going to knock those pompous Ravenclaws right off their broomsticks!"  
  
"Really?" Seamus looked hopeful. Fred clapped a hand over his mouth, and nodded for Katie to continue. Suddenly, from outside the locker room came the wail of an electric guitar.  
  
"What in the bloody hell is THAT?" Katie demanded angrily.  
  
"I've no i-"  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the first official Hogwarts Quidditch game of the season!" Lee Jordan's voice, magically magnified, accompanied the out-of-control screeching. The music changed suddenly, and Riley clapped a hand to her mouth in amazement.  
  
"Oi!"  
  
Fred looked at her suspiciously. "Riley, you don't have anything to do with this, do you?"  
  
"I - I don't think so . . . but how did Lee Jordan end up with a copy of 'Pinkerton'?" Riley thought for a moment. "I'm sure I was the only one in the school who really liked Weezer at all, not to mention Muggle music in general."  
  
"Um, I s'pose he just had an extra one on hand," George offered quickly, giving Fred an 'oops' sort of glance.  
  
Fred nodded. "Yeah. Lee's mum's Muggle-born, I'm sure that had something to do with it."  
  
Despite herself, Katie's toe was tapping, and she grinned unexpectedly. "Riley, what is this?" she yelled over the song.  
  
"Weezer - 'Tired of Sex'. Great, isn't it?"  
  
But Lee was speaking again. "And now, I give you . . . Gryffindor and Ravenclaw!"  
  
"Jordan, TURN THAT DOWN!" McGonagall had finally managed to fight her way over to where Lee was hiding under the teachers' bleachers, magical microphone and Walkman cradled to his chest. She peered at him from between the slats.  
  
  
  
The other students laughed to hear the wheedling tone that came into Lee's voice. "But professor," he protested, "it's really good music . . . you can ask Dumbledore! He likes it too." Indeed, Dumbledore was snapping his fingers and doing a half-swaying sort of dance. Professors Snape and McGonagall were the only teachers not participating in some kind of physical enjoyment of the music.  
  
"Well, Severus," Minerva said, with a rather strange - almost embarrassed - expression on his face, "it seems we're on the same side for once."  
  
"It would appear so," Snape replied, his lips pursed thoughtfully.  
  
They looked at each other for a moment; then, Snape stomped on the slat directly above Lee's head. "Jordan! Come out of there - and STOP THAT NOISE!"  
  
And the Quidditch teams took the field. 


End file.
